


Spill

by arysa13



Series: Two Week Challenge - Round Two [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Confessions, F/M, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Magic Jizz, Mutual Pining, Neighbors, Platonic Blow Jobs, Smut, Truth Serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 16:22:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18347297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: Bellamy is tricked into drinking a truth serum, not that it works. It does, however, work on Clarke later.





	Spill

**Author's Note:**

> This is my 100th Bellarke fic. Feels like some kind of milestone I guess, like I should have written something special for it. Instead it's just like 3k words of smut where Bellamy has magic jizz. But also it feels kind of fitting somehow lmao. 
> 
> Based on the kink meme prompt "Jizz but it acts like a truth serum"

Bellamy has been having a fucking weird day. He’d just wanted to have a relaxing day at home, but instead he’d been dragged to a psychic expo by his sister. He didn’t believe in psychics before, but after the reading Niylah had given him, after Octavia forced him to sit down at her booth, he’s even more of a sceptic. _You will find love_ isn’t exactly mind-blowing fortune telling.

Then, Octavia had bought him a drink, which she only told him after he’d downed the whole thing was actually supposed to be a truth serum. Because apparently that’s also a thing you can buy at a psychic expo. It hadn’t worked, obviously, but Bellamy is still annoyed about the whole thing. Octavia had then ditched him to go hang out with Niylah, even though she told him she would go see a movie with him after the expo. He’d watched the movie alone, hoping it would make him feel better about his wasted day, but the movie was shit and he just ended up feeling worse.

So now he’s sprawled on his couch, trying to relax, but he’d forgotten he doesn’t have any alcohol except for the sambuca Murphy left here a month ago, and that shit is disgusting. He’s not exactly _sulking_ , but he’s not _not_ sulking either.

But then Clarke is walking through his apartment door, like she lives here, and somehow his mood instantly lifts. And it’s not just because she’s carrying a six pack.

“Hey,” she smiles, and Bellamy’s heart skips a beat. Because she said _hey_. Yeah, he’s got it bad.

“Hey,” Bellamy returns, sitting up straighter.

Clarke drops the six pack on the coffee table and falls onto the couch beside him, swinging her legs across his lap. Normal, for her. They’ve been neighbours for three years, and friends for longer, so they have this casual kind of intimacy with each other that Bellamy doesn’t quite have with anyone else. It’s probably why he’s in love with her.

“I heard you had a shitty day,” Clarke says. Bellamy’s hands rest on her legs, stroking and massaging her shins and calves, like she’s the one who’s had a shitty day. She hums happily.

“Better now that you’re here,” he says. He tries not to think about his hands drifting higher, between her thighs, under her dress. He already knows she’s not down for it, and he feels guilty for even imagining it. But he can’t help it. He wants to tease her cunt through her panties, make her all wet for him, then finger her until she cries. He feels his cock growing hard, and he shifts uncomfortably, trying to make sure Clarke doesn’t catch on.

“You want to tell me about it?” Clarke asks. She grabs two beers from the coffee table and hands one to him.

“Octavia took me to a psychic expo,” Bellamy says. Clarke snorts out a laugh. “Yeah.”

“I bet you loved that.”

“Her girlfriend, Niylah, is apparently a psychic. She told me that I would find love, and that I’d have two kids.”

“At least she didn’t tell you you’d die in an horrific car accident,” Clarke muses.

“Yeah. And then Octavia tricked me into drinking what she claimed was a truth serum.”

“Ooh, did you reveal your deepest, darkest secrets?”

“If my deepest, darkest secret is that Octavia is an annoying brat, then yes. Then she ditched me to hang out with her girlfriend.”

“You poor thing,” Clarke gives him a sympathetic look, but he can’t help but feel like she’s also teasing him a little. “You want me to make it better?” Her voice drops, and Bellamy’s cock jerks to full attention.

“Clarke, you don’t have to—” he starts. Clarke moves her leg, rubbing her calf against his crotch. There’s no way she can’t feel his erection.

“I want to,” she says. “I like making you feel good.” She’s looking at him all sultry and seductive, and his cock is throbbing, and he’s powerless to say no. Not that he _wants_ to say no. He fucking loves having her mouth around his cock, as he’s discovered over the last month. But he just feels bad, because she never lets him return the favour. He’s offered, each time she’s done this. But she always waves him away. He’d like to tell her that he desperately _wants_ to go down on her, but he also doesn’t want to pressure her into it. There’s every likelihood she’d let him do it, just because _he_ wants to, and not because she’s actually into it, and that’s the last thing he wants.

“Yeah, okay,” he breathes.

In an instant, Clarke has her legs out of his lap and is perched on her knees beside him, her hands fumbling with his fly. Bellamy squeezes his hands into fists to keep from touching her. That’s not what this is. His cock is straining to be released, and Clarke finally gets his jeans undone, and she slides to the floor to pull them off. She positions herself between his legs, and she looks so fucking eager to please him.

Not for the first time, he wonders what she’s getting out of this. She says she likes making him feel good. Bellamy doesn’t really know how that translates into sucking his cock. There are plenty of ways to make a person feel good. Definitely more _platonic_ ways. Though this is as platonic as a blow job gets, he supposes. Except for the part where he’s in love with her. But she doesn’t know that.

Clarke toys with the waistband of his boxers for a moment, before she pulls them out of the way to release his cock. She’s not as overwhelmed by it as she was the first time, but she still eyes it with some kind of reverence. That’s part of the act, he guesses, to make him feel good. What guy doesn’t want to think his cock is the most impressive one the girl he’s in love with has ever seen?

He’s big, he knows that. But he was never _proud_ of it, never felt like it was something to be cocky about, until Clarke saw it for the first time, until she worshipped him with her tongue, took him deep into her throat.

Clarke licks him now, runs her tongue over his cock, along the length of him, slow and wet. She knows exactly what he likes by now, can get him to come in minutes if she wants to. She also knows how to work him right to the edge, then stop, and keep doing that, until he’s shaking and whining with desperation.

He hopes this isn’t one of those times. He’s already feeling desperate, just from her lazy, teasing laps of her tongue over his cock and balls.

“Clarke,” he whines. She takes him into her warm mouth, and he gasps. He fights the urge to bury his hands in her hair. He wants to whisper all the dirty things running through his mind. It’s hard for him to keep his mouth shut. Dirty talk is his _thing_ , and the fact that he’s not allowed to use it on her kills him. But he has to remind himself she’s not his girl, no matter how much he’d like her to be. She’s just doing him a favour.

She hums, her lips vibrating against his cock, and his hips lift off the couch involuntarily for a moment.

“Sorry,” he mutters. She takes him further into her throat and he groans, his head rolling back against the couch. “Yes,” he moans. “Fuck yes, Clarke.”

She’s not fucking around tonight. She’s done teasing him, and she wraps her hand around the base of his cock, then lavishes him with her mouth and tongue. The wet, sloppy sounds of her bobbing up and down on his cock only bring him closer to climax. His breathing grows laboured, and he can feel it coming, feel his balls about to burst. She tips him over the edge, and then he’s coming into her mouth, pushing his pelvis up against her face and gasping through his orgasm.

Clarke swallows his come, all of it, drinks it up like she actually likes it. If it’s acting, she’s fucking good at it. She looks up at him from the floor, looking pleased with herself, and Bellamy wants nothing more than to pull her up into his lap and kiss her until her lips are bruised. He doesn’t do that. Instead, he picks up his beer from where he abandoned it on the coffee table, and takes a sip.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Do you feel better?” Clarke asks. She gets up and joins him on the couch again. Her legs stay curled up under her this time.

“Yeah,” Bellamy says. He doesn’t even bother asking her if she wants him to return the favour this time. He knows she’ll say no. “What now? You staying?” She doesn’t normally stay long after she’s sucked his dick. Like maybe she feels weird about it but she doesn’t want to admit it.

Clarke shrugs. “I’ll finish my beer,” she says.

“You want to watch something?”

“Not really.”

“What then? What do you normally do after you’ve sucked my cock?” he jokes. To his surprise, Clarke blushes.

“Normally I go home and finger myself,” she says. Her eyes widen, and her hand flies to her mouth. Her blush deepens. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that,” she swallows. Bellamy stares at her, open-mouthed. Is she fucking with him?

“You know, if you need to come, I can help you out with that,” he says. “You don’t have to do it yourself.”

“I know,” Clarke says quickly.

“So, do you want me to make you come?”

“Yes,” Clarke says. She shakes her head. She looks so confused, and a little upset. “I mean, yes.” She groans.

Bellamy tilts his head, concerned. He reaches out to put a comforting hand on her knee, and she jerks away from him. He pulls his hand back. “Hey, I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to. Are you okay?”

“I—” Clarke stops. He can see the gears working in her mind.

“Clarke? Clarke, is everything alright?”

Clarke shakes her head. “No, I—” she clamps her mouth shut. “I’m leaving,” she says. She stands up abruptly, and heads for the door.

“Clarke!” Bellamy calls out after her, but she doesn’t stop. She’s out the door, and Bellamy quickly gets to his feet, chasing after her, out into the hallway, despite the fact that he’s just in his boxers and a t-shirt. “Clarke!” he calls again. He reaches her and grabs her arm, spinning her back to face him. She looks pained. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“I can’t lie.”

“What?”

“Whenever I try to tell a lie, it just comes out as the truth.”

Bellamy shakes his head, confused. “Is this some sort of weird joke I don’t get?”

“No, Bellamy,” Clarke groans, frustrated. “Maybe that stupid truth serum you drank got into your come somehow.”

The whole thing isn’t believable, but at the same time, he has to believe her. He’d know if she was just kidding around, and she seems genuinely distressed by the whole situation.

“Okay,” he says. “I believe you.” He wants to put his arms around her, but she freaked out when he tried to touch her before, so he holds back. She won’t look at him, and it’s hard to figure out what she’s thinking. He feels like this is somehow his fault, like he’s done something to hurt her, and he’s not sure how to fix it. And the thing is, he feels for her, he really does. But he can’t help feeling a little hurt himself.

“Clarke,” he says quietly. “Why would you want to lie to me?”

Clarke finally looks at him. She looks guilty. “I’m sorry,” she says. “There are… things I don’t want you to know.”

Bellamy shakes his head. They’re supposed to be best friends. “Like that you need to get off too sometimes?” he asks. “Come on, Clarke. Do you think I’m going to judge you for that?”

“No, it’s not that,” Clarke says. “It’s—” she shuts down again, and Bellamy huffs.

“It’s what? Come on, talk to me. You know you can tell me anything.”

“It’s—it’s what I feel,” Clarke swallows. “What I want.”

“And what do you want?”

Clarke hesitates. “I want you,” she says. The words spill out of her, like she can’t stop them. Bellamy’s heart stops for a moment. He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t _that._ He searches her eyes for some sign that this isn’t actually some cruel prank after all. But no, she wouldn’t do that to him.

“You want me?”

Clarke nods. The silence stretches on between them. “See, now it’s all weird between us,” she mutters. Bellamy finally gets his brain working again. He licks his lips.

“Tell me exactly what you want,” he says. “And you’ll get it.”

Clarke’s eyes widen and her breath hitches. “I want you to kiss me,” she whispers.

Her eyes stay on him, uncertain, as he steps forward, hands sliding around her waist. He pulls her body tightly against his, and she tilts her head back, lips parting slightly. His kiss is soft, but he deepens it almost immediately, her lips too enticing to resist any longer. He backs her against the wall, tongue in her mouth, desperate for more of her. He can feel her tits crushed against his chest, and he wants to put his hands on them. He pulls his mouth away from hers, lets his lips trace her jaw instead.

“What else do you want?” he murmurs.

“I want you to touch me,” Clarke breathes. “Finger me. Fuck me. Whatever you want. Just make me come, _please_.”

Bellamy feels like he’s waited an eternity to hear her say that. His cock throbs, hard already as he imagines what he wants to do to her. He trails kisses down her neck, revelling in the way she tilts her head and arches her neck to give him better access. He brings a hand between her legs, and she gives a small whine when he presses his fingers against the outside of her panties.

“Are you wet?” he asks her. He can already feel that she is, but he wants to hear her say it.

“Yes,” Clarke says. “I’m so wet for you.” Bellamy teases her with his fingers, stroking her through her panties as the wet patch only gets bigger.

“You get this wet from sucking my cock, baby?” he asks.

“Yes,” Clarke admits.

“Every time?”

“Uh huh.”

“And then you go home and finger yourself, make yourself come?”

“Yes,” Clarke says. Her face is a deep shade of red. Maybe it’s wrong to ask her, to take advantage of her when she can’t lie. But he has to know these things. He moves her panties aside so he can slip his fingers between her folds. She really is dripping.

“You should’ve said something sooner,” Bellamy says. Clarke squirms under his touch, her chest rising and falling heavily. He circles her clit with his finger and she spasms.

“I didn’t want you to feel obliged,” Clarke says. “I was only sucking your cock because I wanted to. Not because I expected something in return.”

“You ever think maybe I want to make you feel good too?” He sinks two fingers into her cunt and she moans loudly. A door opens somewhere down the hall, and both of them whip their heads towards the source of the noise. Bellamy had forgotten they were standing in a communal hallway for a moment there.

Someone walks out of their apartment a couple of doors down. Some college student Bellamy hasn’t learnt the name of yet. He doesn’t remove his fingers from Clarke’s pussy. He can feel her clenching around him, desperate for more. She grinds down on his hand. The college student glances at them, but doesn’t seem to register what’s going on before she’s gone.

“Oh my god,” Clarke breathes, when their neighbour is out of earshot.

“Did you like that?” Bellamy whispers. “Thinking we were going to get caught?”

“Yes,” Clarke nods. “Please, Bellamy. I need to come. I need—”

“Shh, baby, it’s okay. I’m gonna make you come.” He slides his fingers out of her cunt and Clarke whines in disappointment. “Come on,” he says, taking her hand. “Back to my apartment.”

Bellamy can practically feel the excited energy radiating off Clarke as they go back inside his apartment. God, how long has she wanted this?

He leads her to his room. She’s smiling giddily. Fuck, is this really happening? She wants him to fuck her. Has wanted it for who knows how long. He should tell her he’s in love with her, in the interest of being honest. But he’s afraid it might be too much, might make her freeze up again. So he keeps quiet.

His hands slide up her thighs and he drags her dress over her head. He kisses her, devours her, wraps himself around her. Clarke tugs his shirt over his head, then walks him over to the bed, dragging him on top of her. Bellamy pulls her bra straps down, then the rest of her bra, letting her tits bounce free. Her nipples are pink and hard, and Bellamy drops his head to run his tongue over a hardened peak.

“I love your tits, baby,” he says. “Think about coming on them all the time when you suck my dick. Think about sucking on your nipples. Think about watching them bounce while I fuck you hard.”

He sucks a nipple into his mouth, and Clarke arches up into him. He shoves his hand into her panties, cups her pussy, and lets his middle finger tease her slit.

“Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy,” Clarke chants, her voice all strained and breathy. Bellamy pops her nipple from his mouth, then moves his mouth down her body, leaving wet kisses down her stomach. He yanks her panties down, and presses his mouth to her slit, breathing in the sweet scent of her.

“Can’t believe you waited so long to let me do this,” Bellamy says. “How long have you been wanting this, huh? How long you been fingering yourself instead of letting me do it for you?”

Clarke whimpers. “Years,” she says. Fuck. _Years_? So not just this past month. Has she been thinking about this as long as he has?

“Fuck, Clarke,” he groans. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you feel real good. Gonna make it better than you ever dreamed of.”

“Please,” Clarke begs. Bellamy flicks his tongue over her clit and she gasps, jerking her hips towards him. “Bellamy, please. Please.”

He works his tongue on her pussy, lapping her arousal into his mouth, savouring the taste of her on his tongue as he alternates between licking her slit and her clit. She’s whimpering constantly now, on the verge, desperate to come. She’s so worked up she can’t even beg.

Bellamy’s cock is hard as hell, throbbing, aching to be inside her. He doesn’t think he can wait any longer. He pulls his mouth away, and Clarke moans, her frustration and disappointment evident. Bellamy gets to his knees, admiring her from above, flushed and quivering, her blonde curls splayed out on the bed, her bra still pulled below her tits and her panties around her thighs.

“You want me to fuck you now? Make you come on my cock?”

Clarke nods, clearly incapable of words. Bellamy removes his boxers, and then he’s pressing his cock to her entrance, and _holy fuck, he’s really going to fuck her_.

“Please, Bellamy,” Clarke says. “I need you inside me.”

Bellamy pushes into her, his whole length sliding deep into her cunt. She cries out.

“You okay?”

“Yes. God, yes,” Clarke moans.

“Fucking hell, Clarke. You feel so good. So perfect.”

He thrusts into her, chasing his own orgasm, knowing she’s closer than he is, so he doesn’t have to hold back.

“Oh my god,” she moans. “Oh my god. Bellamy, I love you.” She comes then, and somehow Bellamy is coming with her, though he’d thought he was way off. He’s so wrapped up in his pleasure, in her pleasure, he doesn’t register right away what she’s said, or what it means.

But he’s barely finished before Clarke is shoving him off her, hastily pulling up her panties and fixing her bra. Her face and chest are all flushed, and she won’t look at him.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and her voice is all shaky, like she’s on the verge of tears. Bellamy sits up, confused.

“Hey, hey,” he says softly, stroking her arm. “Look at me.”

Clarke faces him reluctantly. Tears well in her eyes. “I feel so stupid. It’s so embarrassing.”

“Because you said you love me?” he whispers.

Clarke nods. “Everyone knows you don’t tell a guy you’re in love with him while he’s fucking you.”

“You’re in love with me,” he says. His brain finally catches up. It’s like he’s spent so long fantasising about her telling him she’s in love with him that he’d momentarily forgotten it hadn’t already happened. And she’s telling him now. Because she can’t lie. His heart constricts.

Clarke nods, and the tears spill over.  

“Clarke, baby, don’t cry,” Bellamy says. “You have nothing to cry about. I’m in love with you too.” He presses his lips to her wet cheek.

“You are?” she asks.

“Of course I am. I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Clarke gives a wet laugh. She wipes her eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

Clarke laughs again, and Bellamy smiles. “Touché,” she says. “I guess we’re both kind of dumb, huh?”

Bellamy chuckles. “I guess so.”

“But at least I kind of made a move. I’ve been sucking your dick for a month now.”

“You wouldn’t let me return the favour!” Bellamy huffs. “As if I haven’t been fantasising about going down on you since I first met you. I can’t believe it took a fucking truth serum,” Bellamy shakes his head.

“I can’t believe your come made me tell you I love you.”

Bellamy snorts out a laugh, and Clarke falls back onto the bed, laughing along with him. Bellamy lies down beside her.

“So, to recap. I love you,” he says. Clarke kisses him.

“And I love you. I guess Niylah was right after all.”

“I’m glad that’s what you got out of this.”

“No, I already got what I wanted,” Clarke smiles. She runs her fingers over his chest. “I really hope this truth telling thing wears off soon though, because I have to go have breakfast with my mom tomorrow, and I’d rather not have to tell her _why_ I’m suddenly so honest.”

“Hey mom, I sucked my boyfriend’s dick last night and now I can’t lie,” Bellamy grins.

“Boyfriend,” Clarke says, testing the word out for the first time. “I like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> main tumblr: keiraknighted  
> fic tumblr: arysafics


End file.
